Simply Cataclysmic
by bella49
Summary: A new decree is passed to create harmonony in the wizarding world which leads to a series of cataclysmic events involving Draco, Ginny,Hermione,and Ron.
1. Howl For A Howler

_Tock...Tock…Tock..._

A flustered Hermione looked up from her paperwork after hearing a faint sound coming from her office window. A tawny owl with outstretched wings and a remarkable determination was desperately seeking entrance into the room but was having a rather difficult time seeing that the window was firmly glued to its hinges and unfortunately wouldn't budge for the insistent nocturnal bird.

Hermione had placed a potent _Collatotalus _charm on it earlier to prevent a certain red haired intruder from climbing through the window for an afternoon snog session – not that Hermione minded. But it was beginning to take a toll on her career. After an hour of pure euphoria with Ron, the young witch left her office and ran smack into her boss who reprimanded her for her disheveled attire and smeared lipstick.

"_Great scott woman! What in Merlin's name happened to you? Very un-Grangerlike of you to waltz around looking like you've just had a romp in you office. I'll let it slide this time because you are definitely an asset to this department. But do not think for a moment that I would hesitate to fire an employee due to their careless appearance. I trust that you will take more caution in the future and that I need not remind you to maintain an air of professionalism. Now, carry on Granger._"

Clearly mortified by the thought of losing her job due to her inability _maintain an air of professionalism_, Hermione warned Ron that their afternoon _rendezvous_ would discontinue immediately. Ron laughed off her absurd proclamation and began to trail butterfly kissing along her collarbone. The thought of his stickler-for-the rules Hermione actually being scolded turned him on and was downright well…_naughty_. His urges for her heightened but to dismay, his girlfriend did not seem to share his desire. The mere thought of her boss' lecture turned her off to Ron's persistent advances. And he was _extremely_ persistent.

He once Apparated in her lap while she held a meeting with one of her subordinates in Paris via Floo Network. She beamed bright red as she ended the meeting abruptly saying she had to redirect a lost teenage boy who had yet to pass his Apparitions test. He had later Transfigured himself into a bouquet of twelve long stemmed roses, which he had delivered to her door, only revealing himself just as she enjoyed their heavenly scent. He was getting craftier with his approaches the longer she detained him.

_Tock…Tock…Tock_

The owl's persistence shook her from her reverie. Hastily picking up her oak wand from her desk, she made her way to the rather large moon shaped window muttering the counter spell under her breath flicking her wrist in florid swishes.

Just as the owl the owl's head, which was now sporting a bump the size of a grape, was about to once again collide with the rigid surface, the spell was lifted and the tiny bird whizzed into its intended destination relieved.

"Oh you poor thing," Hermione cooed as she scooped up the small mass from the floor where it had landed with an abrupt _thud_ from sheer exhaustion. Conjuring up some owl treats, she perched the owl on a branch of the _mimbelus mimbletonia_ that adorned her desk and offered him some crispy liver nuggets. As the owl happily munched away, Hermione reduced the swelling of his bump which was increasing in girth. The owl hooted in appreciation and outstretched his leg which was tied to a rather large red letter.

"A Howler? Now who would possibly send me one? _Me_, Hermione Granger, previous head girl at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founder of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, Junior Undersecretary to the presiding Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour...the list drones on."

The owl settled itself under that plush divan with a look of utmost terror etched upon its tiny features just as Hermione ripped open the red envelope concealing the foul Howler. A loud voice boomed within the four walls of her office and echoed quite loudly.

"**_Granger! What is the meaning of this absurd decree the Minister for Magic signed? Banning the enslavement of House Elves…you're clearly off your rocker. Kantasio has served the Malfoys for centuries and now one of your pawns from the Department of Magical Creature Welfare has come and carted my house elf. 'Do not worry Mr. Malfoy. The elves are still bound to a confidentiality agreement and will take your family's secrets to the grave.' That stupid git! All my so called 'family secrets' were revealed when I joined forces with Potter to vanquish Lord Voldemort. This is all your doing Granger. How am I to clean Malfoy Manor without a house elf? And don't you dare suggest that I do it myself. I have more pressing matters to tend to than house work. You find a way to solve this problem or I'll have a little chat with Rufus Scrimgeour. Maybe I'll invite him over for dinner, present him with a generous some of gold to finance his projects, and sway him to fire you or at least have you demoted. Do I make myself clear?_**"

And with that final word, the letter shred itself into smithereens. Hermione fumed. The nerve of that insolent brat. Just because he was voted _Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor _for the sixth month in a row and just because he had amassed the biggest fortune known to wizards did not give that pompous jerk the right to undermine her authority. Snatching a quill rather briskly, she summoned a piece of her finest parchment and furiously replied with a courteous tone even though her insides squirmed and threatened to erupt like Mount Vesuvius.

"_Mr. Malfoy,_

_It's rather unfortunate that you do not agree with decree no.9754 under section C. which clearly states that in compensation for the house elves' loyalty to our side during the tumultuous reign of Lord Voldemort, they have been granted freedom and are no longer obligated to serve their family. In response to your concern about the cleanliness of your Manor, you can employ the Muggle, yes I repeat, Muggle way. Hire someone, for pay, to see to it while you tend to your 'pressing matters'. If you choose to do so, the rules and regulations are clearly outlined in decree no.9755 under section C. Please contact me if you have any concerns, which I'm most certain that you will, regarding the legalities of the procedure. _

_Signed_

_Hermione Granger_

_Junior Undersecretary_"

A smug smile crept on her face as she imagined Malfoy in disarray. She coaxed the owl from his hiding spot with some more liver treats and tied the letter to his leg as he nipped away.


	2. The Hair Is Key

**_Thanks to my sole reviewer Neverrmind x. And to answer your question…all in due time._**

"That insufferable git of a woman!" Draco yelled as he ripped the parchment to shreds. "How can I, Draco Malfoy, benefactor of the Malfoy fortune, lower myself to muggle commodities? It's simply unheard of! If my ancestors could leap out from their portraits there would certainly be a lynching involving a certain do-gooder witch," he berated at the rather frightened owl. His features seemed to say 'Don't shoot the messenger'. Draco reached into the pocket of his double breasted jacked beneath him wizard robes and retrieved some treats which seemed to appease the owl.

Rubbing his temples, he strode to his study and reached for the tumbler containing his favorite Courvoisier liqueur. Pouring a greedy amount into his cognac glass, he swirled it around before inhaling the liquid contained inside. Ms. Granger had always made his blood boil and today was no different. That woman knew how to send him over the edge with fury and it annoyed him how she always came out completely unscathed. His clutch on the glass became too forceful and an awful _crunch_ noise echoed in the room. Unclenching his fist slowly, he saw a deep cut in his palm. As the blood continued to trickle down the side of his hand, he once again reached into his breast pocket procuring a scarlet handkerchief which he used to nurse his wound. He conjured up his wand and muttered an incantation under his breath to repair the broken glass. He hated shopping for new glassware and if Ms. Granger continued with her ways, it certainly would not be the last time this happened. Running a hand through his sleeked beach blonde hair and an idea suddenly came to him. His hair seemed to be the source of all his power. Soft and thick, it was the epitome of perfection. He was aware that Ms. Granger was currently seeing the Weasel King. It was rumored that she was so infatuated that she was often caught by many co-workers in compromising situations with him. "_This ingenious plot of mine just might work_," he thought as his might wandered to the label of the flasks filled with potions he kept in his study for emergencies. He was almost certain that he had some Polyjuice potion stored in there somewhere.

Just as he suspected, there nestled between the Felix Felicis and the Sleeping Draught was a flask of freshly brewed Polyjuice potion. "If I manage to get hold of some of Weasels' hair, I can put it in the potion and persuade Ms. Granger to revoke the house elf ban. Good thing I collect hair strands as a precaution. I should have a stack of Weasel's since he sheds like a dog. Even though I shudder at the thought of ingested that vile red hair, I'll do it just to put the little mud—Granger in her place."

Ever since he joined forces with Potter, his hatred towards non-purebloods ceased. He didn't know whether it was the fact that his father was locked up in Azkaban and no longer present to badger him with talks of his family duties that caused this change of heart but he wasn't about to proclaim it to the world that he wasn't the Grinch he used to be. He made anonymous contributions to various charities never wanting any recognition for his selfless acts for he knew the _Daily Prophet _would have a field day writing about how his 'generosity' was a good way of improving his company's image in the wizarding community, or his personal favorite, a desperate cry for media attention. So he tried to shy away from the spotlight but now that was becoming possible with this latest edition of _Witch Weekly_. Rita Skeeter wrote an article concerning his bachelor status and it was a regular occurrence for him to find a stack of letters submerged in his morning porridge from witches all across the country vying for the coveted title '_Draco Malfoy's Special Someone_'. It's like they were contestants from the amazing race trying to get to the golden prize first. Well Draco Malfoy was not a prize to be won...


	3. We Should Do THAT More Often

"…and I want a thirty inch parchment report on my desk first thing Monday morning," Rufus Scrimgeour bellowed at the adjacent office.

"Yes sir," Hermione retorted with a salute.

Hopefully he hadn't picked up on the bitterness in her tone. Normally, Hermione didn't mind writing reports. It was part of the job description and she loved it. But when her boss inconveniently assigned last minute work on a Friday evening, that just ticked her off.

Instead of using her weekend to unwind, she would spend it wrapped in work. She was looking forward to spending time with Ron. Ever since she banned him from visiting her office, she'd become very lonely. Ron worked with his father in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. Even though they worked in the same building, their breaks didn't correspond. Since Hermione was the one with an office, Ron would sneak up to meet her and spend his lunch hour in her company. But she reprimanded him when her coworkers started to get suspicious about the red haired man who seemed to have daily appointments with the Junior Undersecretary. That's when he devised creative methods of meeting her.

It wasn't that Hermione was ashamed of her relationship with Ron—in fact she was quite elated and she hoped to become a permanent member of the flaming haired Weasley clan. It was just that she wanted to keep it quiet at the office. She was a young woman in a position of power and some of the older workers envied her prominent status. She knew how ruthless some of them were and she didn't want anything to sabotage her relationship with Ron. But now she regretted being so harsh on him and restricting his visits. Apart from Ron, she had no other friends at the Ministry. They were either too intimidated or brimming with rage with her degree of success. She was usually too tired from working such long hours to spend time with during the week that she cherished the weekend where she had no deadlines to meet or responsibilities that went beyond feeding Crookshanks.

"I'd better get started with that report."

Bustling about her office, she searched under stacks of parchment for a quill so that she could begin her report. Spotting a rumpled grey feather under a pile, she tugged at it gingerly not wanting her organized sheets to topple over like dominoes. Unfortunately, the quill did not budge from its resting place. Frustrated, she yanked it causing the pile to lean like the tower of Pisa and before she could realign the once neat pile, everything cascaded to the ground, burying her wand in the process.

"Ugh. Thank Merlin it's almost closing time," she sighed as she bent forward in search for her wand.

"Nice bottom Granger. Is there always such a great view in this office," a cool voice said from behind her.

"Ron!" she gasped turning a light shade of crimson. "What are you doing here?" she asked sheepishly abandoning the wand search.

"Granger, if loving you with all my heart's a crime, then I'm guilty," a Polyjuice version on Ron replied. "_Draco, you are a genius. She'll be putty in your hand if you play your cards right._"

Straightening herself up, Hermione beamed. Ron seemed different today. He seemed to exude a certain confidence she never knew him to possess. He was actually quite charming instead of his usual bashful self. "Oh Ron, I'm sorry I was so stern with you but you have to know how I've missed you," Hermione apologized throwing her arms around his neck, engulfing him in a hug.

"Erm…apology accepted love," he said perplexed while patting her on the back rather awkwardly. "_Why is she apologizing about being stern? Is the Weasel her lover or her student? Oh well, must play along if I'm going to carry out my mission. I only ingested enough of that horrid potion to last an hour. An hour as a Weasel is plenty. _" Peeling himself away from her clutch he offered her an exquisite bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. "But you shouldn't shoulder all the blame. I'm as much at fault here. These are for you."

"Ronald Weasley, this floral arrangement is absolutely divine," she said as she admired her gift. Her gaze shifted from the flowers to her supposed beau. "How did I get so lucky?" she asked rhetorically.

"You mean unlucky," he scoffed lightly feeling the intensity of her gaze.

"Pardon me?"

"I meant to say I'm the lucky one for having such a….be-beautiful girl like you put up with a git like me. Sometimes I wonder whether you're not better off with someone who can truly appreciate your greatness," he said quickly. He couldn't help throwing a few jabs Ron's way. "_Phew…nice save. You are one suave little devil Draco_."

"You are not a git Ron. Don't put yourself down like that," Hermione said stroking his cheek with her forefingers. "I want to be with you and only you," she said placing her hands behind his neck, "and I'll prove it to you."

"_Warning, warning. What does she mean 'I'll prove it to you'? Oh no, she wants to kiss me. This wasn't part of the plan_."

Before he could pull away, she pulled his lips down to meet hers in a searing kiss.

"_I'm kissing Granger. Granger? I'm kissing Granger. Hell froze over_. _Pigs can fly without the aid of magic. The Chudley Canons will win the Workd Cup. The world's gone berserk._"

Just as they came back up for air, Hermione yanked the collar of his robes ready for round two. This time her lips parted and her tongue grazed his lips. He didn't deny her entry into his mouth and actually pulled her deeper, his arms snaking their way around her waist. "_Hmmm…This is actually quite nice_._ Who knew she could kiss? But I need to get the decree revoked._"

Hermione was quite surprised by the kiss. Ron was usually a sloppy kisser and fumbled with his hands but today he was much more experienced. She now questioned whether Ron was an expert in novice cloaks. She moaned as his hands inched lower down her back reaching dangerous territory but she didn't refuse him access.

"Well, that was—"

"Wonderful," Hermione cut him off catching her breath. "I was very wrong before. We should definitely do THAT more often," she giggled, laying her head on his chest, listening to his racing heart. "You know, it's well after 5:00. I'd say we have this entire floor to ourselves," she said, arching her eyebrows suggestively.

"_What a disappointment Weasel must be_." He stroked her hair wondering how he was going to bring up the decree now. As he stood deep in thought, Hermione looked up and examined him curiously.

"Ron, you're looking a little pale and your freckles have disappeared." She watched in bewilderment as the tips of his hair red were now tinged platinum blonde. She reached out to touch it and screamed. She'd only known one person with this hair tint.

"DRACO MALFOY?" she questioned.

"_Damn. I must have lost track of time_." There was now no mistaking that he had fully returned to his former self since he didn't feel repulsed in his skin. "Hermione? Fancy meeting you here," he said.

"What kind of sick joke are you playing Ferret Face?" she asked horrified. "When Ron finds out he'll—"

"He'll what? Try to deck me? I'd like to see him try," he scoffed. "I guess I owe you an explanation."

"You most certainly do you stupid git," she fumed.

"Right…well I came here with every intention of persuading you to annul your newest decree," he said confidently. "And I would have succeeded if I had taken more Polyjuice Potion."

"You…you…I despise you. You are the scum of the earth," she yelled pointing a finger at his chest.

"Oh, I'm not convinced that that's your opinion of me. Shall I get some Veritaserum to test my theory or shall we just listen to your moaning on my Muggle tape recorder. Ingenious little devices I must say."

"I thought you were Ron," she defended.

"Really Granger. Any idiot with half a brain would see right through this fake Ron," he said matter-of-factly. "Perhaps I should consider a career in acting or you should retake your NEWTs to retest your intelligence. Personally, you're way overrated," he goaded.

Draco thought he could see the steam pouring out of her ears. "Malfoy, there is NO way I am changing the decree. Not for you or anyone else for that matter. Please remove yourself from my office immediately or I shall call security. Here," she said thrusting a paper his way.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's today's issue of the _Daily Prophet_."

"And what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Write up an ad for maid services," she said coolly.

"For what?"

"A maid Ferret Face. Are you dense? Hire someone to care for your Manor because as long as I'm Junior Undersecretary, no house elf shall be enslaved," she said with impressive authority.

"And what if I'm not willing to cooperate?" he threatened.

"Security!" she yelled and with a Pop he apparated out of her sight. "How do I face Ron now?"

"What?"

"Ron?" she asked surprised.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" Ron asked approaching her.

"Nothing, I'm just really happy to see you." It was a half truth.

"I'm happy to see you too. Why don't you come to the Burrow for supper? Mum's been wondering whether she ought to notify the authorities," he said laughing jovially.

"Erm…I'd love to. I haven't seen her in ages."

He leaned in to give her a quick peck. She ran her pink tongue over her swollen lips. It didn't taste the same.

"Hermione, who are those flowers from?"


End file.
